


Victory (You Are My Reinforcements)

by AlyssiaInWonderland



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Cooking, Fluff, Gen, Humour, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, absolutely no angst i know this is unusual but i promise its just these two cuties and some humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 06:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14396199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyssiaInWonderland/pseuds/AlyssiaInWonderland
Summary: Drabble prompt: Kirk and Spock + one or both of them getting justifiably but ridiculously stressed over not being able to open something (something unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but still really annoying in the right now)So, here goes!!!! and if any of y’all catch the Terry Pratchett reference u get literally nothing but a mild sense of smug satisfaction ;p





	Victory (You Are My Reinforcements)

Spock took a single, deep, meditative breath. He released it slowly, bringing to mind the teachings of Surak as he had been advised as a child, floundering in his human half’s illogic. Maintain perspective. Let go of emotional responses to stimuli. Remain calm and logical through upheaval. Be the solid land under the frenzied waves.

He opened his dark eyes, narrowing them slightly in what was categorically not a glare, pinning his foe, his nemesis, with his gaze.

The jar of olives sat, innocent and innocuous, on the countertop. A simple thing of glass and metal, and yet it shirked it’s duty, it’s essential purpose, as it refused to yield to even his Vulcan grip.

If would be the work of a moment, he thought, pensively, to crush the glass. But that would leave shards amongst the contents, and this would then mean he could not use them as an ingredient in the pasta puttanesca he had been planning to make, as a surprise for Jim. If he were to make food, he resolved, somewhat regretfully, it would mean opening the olives in a way that left them safe for consumption - and thus, he could not rely on his physical strength to get him out of this situation.

Spock’s eyes flickered to the clock on the wall of their shared kitchen. It ticked on silently, taunting him as Jim’s shift came ever closer to completed. He pressed his lips together in a firm line, allowing his brow to wrinkle ever so slightly as he sat, contemplating the jar.

“Are you alright, Spock?”

Spock carefully did not jump, turning sedately to see Jim, coat still on, eyebrow quirked at him questioningly.  
  
“Indeed. You are back early?” Drawing the conclusion that his surprise was now negated, he elected to continue to sit and observe his opponent for weaknesses.  
  
“Yes, I wanted to surprise you. And you seem to have been thinking along the same lines - I’m sorry I ruined your plan.” Jim gestured to the kitchen, where a chopping board was laid out neatly, capers and garlic and tomatoes lined up on it, spaghetti pre-measured and waiting to be put on the boil. “Were you taking a break before the olives?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Spock acknowledged, dryly. “It was either myself or the jar; I decided that taking a break for myself would generate less inconvenience.”

“I see.” Jim grinned at him, the expression blinding, and Spock watched him silently as he hung up his coat, toed off his boots and padded into the kitchen. “I commend you on your choice and restraint.”

“Naturally,” Spock said, with a faint smile twitching at the corner of his lip. “I am a Vulcan, Jim.”

“Of course.” Spock watched as Jim carefully ran the lid of the jar under the hot tap, removing and drying it carefully before gripping the lid tightly. After a moment of straining, the lid slid open with a loud pop. “There we go!” Jim said, cheerfully. “You may have your Vulcan strength, Spock, but I got physics on my side!” He winked at Spock, and Spock raised an eyebrow at the roguish charm Jim had apparently decided to wear. “When you’re done sulking, you can help me by getting the olive oil from the top shelf.”

“Vulcans do not sulk.” Spock responded, rising smoothly to his feet. He glided forward through the kitchen, reaching up to bring down the oil while Jim cut the olives from the now defeated jar. “Indeed, I still have the claim to victory. I was simply waiting strategically for reinforcements to arrive.”

**Author's Note:**

> I HOPE THIS WAS FUN TO READ!!! It's literally just some short cute fluff for a tumblr user who informed me of the hot-water method of opening tight lids and thus saved my breakfast smoothie!!!! :p
> 
> Thanks for reading, and as ever comments and kudos feed my dark soul! <3


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